


Wolfsbane

by Handsome_Shark



Category: Fright Night (2011), Underworld (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Caretaking, Choking, Fever, Gunshot Wounds, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Wolfsbane, but just for like a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handsome_Shark/pseuds/Handsome_Shark
Summary: Lucian has an unfortunate encounter with some wolfsbane laced rounds.
Relationships: Lucian (Underworld)/Peter Vincent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Wolfsbane

**Author's Note:**

> So I was big into teen wolf back in the day, so um, that’s the werewolf lore I’m most familiar with. anyway, that’s gonna get melded with the lycan lore from underworld to suit my specific hurt/comfort needs, since honestly? the underworld lore is a little lacking.

When Peter’s phone rings at 2 am, the last thing he expects on the other end is his werewolf boyfriend, clearly in pain, asking for help.

“Peter.” Lucian gasps into his phone. 

Lucian’s pained yelp and increingly incoherent words were worrying to say the least and have him up out of a deep sleep faster than anything. 

“Lucian, babe.” Peter says, pulling on clothes and shoes, tearing up the place for his keys. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

“I..” Lucian says, gasping in pain, his breathing labored. “Outside.”

“Where? Concentrate, please.”

“M’outside, can see….. Buildings….”

“Great, that’s very helpful.” Peter says, feeling extremely frustrated, but finally finding his keys under a pile of papers. “Listen, just stay where you are, i’ll find you.” 

He is hesitant to hang up, the desire to keep Lucian on the phone and talking. But he needed to use his phone to find his boyfriend, and it would be a lot easier if he wasn't on it.

He quickly pulls up Lucian’s contact information, clicks on find location. He’s never been more thankful that Lucian had suggested they always have the share location function enabled, just in case something happened to him and he couldn’t contact Lucian. Peter never thought he’d have to use it for Lucian.

\---------------------

Peter’s cell phone guides him to a location, thankfully close and still in the city. His tires squeal to a stop as he brakes, tearing out of the car. His phone says that Lucian is right there, at the very least his phone is here, but as he spins around, he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t hear anything either.

“Lucian!” Peter calls out. He strains, standing stock still as he listens, for anything that isn’t the sound of the city around him. 

“Where are you?” He yells, spotting something far off in the shadow of a building. He runs towards it, quickly recognizing that it was a human, that it was Lucian, skidding on his knees next to him. “Lucian!”

“P’ter..” Lucians slurs.

“Are you ok?” Peter puts his hands on Lucian’s chest, but in the dark of the alley he can’t really see anything, except for the shape of him. “What happened?”

“Hurts…” Lucian groans, grabbing Peter’s wrist, his grip entirely too weak.

“Ok, ok, just hold on,” Peter says, grabbing Lucian by the arms, he pulls with all his weight to get him up, quickly ducking under Lucian’s arm to support him when it’s obvious that he legs aren’t going to hold him up for long. “Come on, the car’s close.”

Somehow Peter manages to get them both to his car, Lucian struggling to get one foot in front of the other, struggling to keep upright even with Peter’s help. He loads Lucian into the back seat, and hopes that by the time they get back, Lucian will be healed enough to at least tell him what happened. 

\--------------------

He was already worried that something had gotten the upper hand on Lucian, but that worry skyrockets when he hasn’t improved at all.

Peter has never been more thankful that he has a private entrance with his own elevator up to his penthouse. It makes the arduous process of getting a mostly unconscious Lucian upstairs a lot less conspicuous. 

He manages to get Lucian inside, and almost to the couch before he trips over something, both of them ending up in a heap on the floor. Well, here was as good a place as any. 

Peter scrambles up, kneeling next to the unconscious man. 

“Lucian.” Peter says, gently tapping his cheek, but not getting any response. “I need you to open your eyes, babe, please.”

Lucian remains unconscious, his breathing becoming laboured. 

“I need to know what happened.” Peter begs, shaking the Lucan by the shoulders, but it’s no use. He moves to check Lucian for injuries, shocked when he pulls his hands away that one of them is covered in blood.

He rips open Lucians leather coat, and now that he’s up close and has actual light, he can see the slight discoloration on his shirt, which was definitely blood. Hardly noticeable on black clothing. 

“Fuck.” Peter peels his shirt away, the fabric already sticking to Lucians‘ skin as the blood dries. He finds a nasty looking bullet wound in his flank, and pulling the collar of his shirt down, identical wound in his shoulder. He shoved a hand under Lucian, hoping that he’d feel two exit wounds, cursing when he finds smooth skin “God damn it.”

Normally, a gunshot wound was no problem for Lucian, even a silver bullet, while painful, were easy enough for him. He’d seen Lucian’s healing abilities enough to know that to be true. 

But this, this was different. 

Both wounds are red and inflamed already, small black tendrils extending from the center of each. To an amateur, one might assume these wounds were merely infected. Peter knew better, knew immediately that the bullets had been infused with wolfsbane, and were currently still inside of him, poisoning him even more

He needs to get them out, fast. 

Peter runs to grab his first aid kit, which had grown in size significantly since he’d started hunting vampires and various other supernatural beings. And dating a werewolf who had a propensity for attracting trouble. 

He upends the whole thing on to the floor, tubes and bottles and rolls of tape and bandages roll across the floor, scattering supplies around the floor until he finds the forceps and a pair of scissors. 

“I’m really sorry for this.” He says as he cuts Lucian’s shirt open, the man still lying motionless on the floor. He braces one hand on his uninjured shoulder, the other holding the forceps as he pushes them deep into the wound on his shoulder. 

Peter’s not sure what’s more concerning, the fact that Lucian barely flinches at the intrusion, or that he finally opens his eyes, only for them to flutter and roll back into his head as Peter prods around.

He digs around carefully, until he hears the tell tale clink of metal on metal, grabbing the bullet and slowly pulling it out, a fresh flow of blood from the wound. 

He receives no reaction at all when he digs around the wound in his side, and as far as he can tell, the bullets are whole, so there shouldn’t be any fragments left inside. No slivers of metal to leech more poison into Lucian’s blood.

He pours rubbing alcohol over the wounds, wiping them down and covering them with clean gauze. 

He can’t carry Lucian, he’s not nearly strong enough. The man might be shorter than him, but he’s all muscle, dense and heavier than he looks. So while he’d rather not, especially with his injuries, he has no choice but to drag Lucian to his bedroom. But he’d rather have him resting in a bed, not on the floor. 

So he drags the werewolf, hands under his armpits, and apologies the whole way. He somehow manages to heft him up onto the mattress. 

As soon as Lucian is all the way in the bed, he sinks to the floor, hands shaking as the adrenaline flooding his system finally tapers out. He leans against the side of the bed, watching Lucian, listening to his laboured breaths, and hopes that removing the wolfsbane will be enough for him to heal on his own. 

Now that he’s sitting down, the exhaustion at being woken from a deep sleep and the subsequent panic hit him like a truck, and before he knows it, he’s asleep.

\---------------------

Peter jerks awake to the sounds of Lucian whimpering and writhing on the bed, a new wave of adrenaline flooding his system. 

“Lucian?” Peter says, crawling onto the bed, reaching towards Lucian. “You need to wake up.” 

He’s obviously having a nightmare, his eyes darting back and forth behind his eyelids, sweat covering his brow. Lucian cries out when Peter’s fingers brush him, curling into himself and away from Peter’s touch. 

Peter gently pushes Lucian to lay on his back, easily manhandling him into position. He tries to peel back the bandage on his shoulder, but as soon as he touches Lucian’s skin he pulls back, the lycan’s skin burning against his. 

Peter cups Lucian’s cheek, then moves his hand to lay across his forehead, and he was hot, way too hot. Lucian wasn’t healing, not the way he was supposed to be. 

He had really hoped that removing the bullets and cleaning the wounds would be enough, that Lucian would be able to sleep it off and heal.

With renewed urgency, he peels back the bandage on Lucian’s shoulder, cringing when black  
oozes from the wound, and Lucian is struggling against him again, fingers clenching in the blankets. 

“No….nono.” Lucian slurs. 

“You need to calm down,” Peter pleads, holding him down with one hand in the middle of his chest, until he quiets down, his lips still moving but no words coming out. 

“Fuck,” Peter curses. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He mentally tries to come up with some kind of plan for how to handle this, what the fuck is he supposed to do. 

He’s no expert on lycanthropy, vampirism is more his area, but he knows the basics. That’s not nearly enough for this situation.

The most pressing matter right now is probably the fever. He’s not sure what temperature lycans normally run at, Lucian always seemed to be warmer than a human, but he was willing to bet it was higher than it should be. 

He scrambles from the room, and runs back after having collected the contents of his first aid kit from the living room floor and a few hand towels.

First things first, he needs to get Lucian out of his clothes, he’s still wearing all his layers, which he realizes now in hindsight he should have done the night before. Lucian shouldn’t have had to lay there all night, uncomfortable in blood stained clothing. 

Peter grabs Lucian by the lapels of his coat, pulling him up into a seated position, his head lolls forward, chin resting on his chest. He starts to wrestle the coat off his shoulders, and either the change in position, or maybe the jostling of his wounds awakens Lucian and he goes suddenly stiff. 

“Thank god,” Peter sighs in relief. “Help me with…”

Peter is cut off mid sentence, by Lucian’s hand wrapped around his throat, the lycan moving faster than Peter thought possible at the moment. He growls, deep and guttural. He eyes completely overtaken by icey blue irises. 

“Lucian.” Peter rasps, he can feel the pinpricks of growing claws, pressing into the thin skin of his neck. “S-stop… it’s me… it’s Peter.” 

“I will not be imprisoned.” Lucian growls, baring his fangs, tightening his grip around Peter’s throat. 

“M’not trying to… Tryin to help” Peter pleads, hoping to get through to the delirious lycan, his hands instinctively grip Lucian’s wrist, one moving to try and pry his fingers away from his cut off airway. “Please let me help.” 

Lucian’s head tilts in confusion, his eyes glassy, staring at Peter, but not actually seeing him. He’s not sure who Lucian thinks he’s seeing. Doesn’t have time to ask before his eyes are rolling back in his head again and he slumps to the side, as if he were a puppet with his strings cut. 

Peter’s doubles over, coughing and chest heaving while he catches his breath. He sits back, looking at Lucian’s unconscious form as he rubs his throat. He can already tell that he’s going to have bruises, for sure. 

“I swear to god,” Peter says to the unconscious lycan. “I am just trying to take care of you, you stupid…” 

He couldn’t finish the sentence, he couldn’t even really be angry, not when Lucian was burning with fever and delirious, it wasn’t his fault. So he gets back to it, fighting a very uncooperative and limp werewolf out of his clothes, hoping he stays that way for now. 

Once he has Lucian naked, he sits on the mattress next to him, just for a moment to collect himself. He’s exhausted already, but he can’t rest, not yet. 

Lucian is shaking and shivering, panting and covered in sweat, his brow furrowed and eyes still darting quickly under his eyelids. 

Peter sighs, grabbing the sheet and spreading over Lucian’s lower body. He pushes the lycans hair back, strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, feeling out of his depths. 

It all feels wrong. He’s never seen Lucian quite like this, looking so small and fragile. He was normally intimidating, even though he stood a few inches shorter than Peter, he had the ability to take control of any room with just one word. 

Peter reaches and grabs one of the towels, realizing that he didn’t bring any water to wet it with.

Dragging himself from the bed, hesitant to take his eyes off Lucian for another second, he runs to get a bowl of cold water. 

He lays a damp towel across Lucians forehead, praying that it might provide some relief. 

Peter quickly cleans and changes the bandages of his wounds, each one oozing black goo along with blood. and finally, with another damp hand towel, gently wipes Lucian down. He cleans his skin, wiping away blood and sweat. He keeps going until Lucian seems to calm, and rest a little easier. 

He rewets the towel on his forehead, before deciding that he could probably leave the room for a little while. Long enough to find all his books that mention lycanthropy and start researching a way to cure this. 

——————-

For two days, Peter pours over any book he can find in his collection that mentions werewolves or lycanthropy, specifically in regards to wolfsbane. Unfortunately, he only finds information on how to use it against werewolves, not how to cure a case of poisoning.

“I guess i shouldn’t be surprised.” He groans. “Can’t imagine many people are trying to cure the wolves they poison.”

When Peter hears a thud, he runs back to his bed room, to find Lucain collapsed in a heap on the floor, curled into a ball. He’d managed to get him into some pajama bottoms, thankfully. 

He hefts Lucian back up into the bed, the lycan immediately curling up into himself. 

“Please.” Lucian whispers, pleading with someone Peter can’t see. “No…nonono.”

”Lucian,” Peter says, sitting on the bed next to him, the same spot he’s most of his time since this whole dilemma started.

“I’m sorry… please, don’t… don’t hurt him.” 

That breaks his heart into tiny pieces, leaves him feeling raw and more than a little ragged. 

“It’s ok, you’re ok.” Peter says, keeping his voice level and calm, he places a hand on Lucian’s back, and when he doesn’t pull away, starts to rub gentle circles. 

Lucian continues to sniffle, whimpering every now and then, but he stops begging for whomever he was seeing to stop whatever it was they were doing. So Peter counts that as a small win. 

Especially because he feels so hopeless. What kind of partner is he, that he can’t find any way to help Lucian? The only solution he has is to wait. Wait for the poison to run its course and hope that Lucian is strong enough to survive it. 

He had to be, right? He was the strongest person Peter knew. 

Peter works tirelessly, caring for Lucian. 

When his fever spikes, he wipes him down with cool towels in an effort to keep his temperature from getting dangerously high. 

When he can, he tries to coax him into drinking small sips of water. 

They go through the ordeal of cleansing and changing his bandages twice a day, and each time he prays Lucian stays unconscious for it, because each time he makes Lucian cry during the process he’s pretty sure it takes a year off his life. 

When he dreams, whimpers and curls in on himself in pain, Peter lies beside him and runs his fingers through his hair, over the plane of his back. 

On the third day, when Peter peels back a bandage, he’s surprised and hopeful for the first time since this started, that Lucian was getting better. The wound, which had been red and inflamed and oozing, is starting to heal. Peter can’t believe it, he peels back the bandage from the second wound and that one looks better too.

He could cry, he’s so happy, he’d been losing hope that Lucian would ever improve, that he would die in this bed, and Peter would powerless to stop it.

He presses his lips to Lucian‘s forehead, and he’s pretty sure his temp is down too, to what he thinks might even be a normal level. But he doesn’t own a thermometer, so he can’t be sure. 

When Lucian seems to sleep, really sleep for the first time, not plagued by nightmares or hallucinations, Peter finally allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief and believe that maybe things are starting to look up. 

\------------------------------

Lucian wakes slowly, becoming aware of a few things in succession. First is that he hurts, his whole body aches all over. He takes a deep breath, Peter’s scent surrounding him, and his fingers rub against soft sheets.

So, at the very least, he can assume he’s safe, with Peter. 

He forces his eyes open, a struggle itself, having to blink a few times to bring his vision into focus, recognizing the ceiling of Peter’s room. 

Lucian groans, trying to turn himself on to his side, nearly every muscle in his body screaming at the movement. He finds Peter sleeping next to him on top of the sheets, wearing a ratty old tee and boxers, clutching a washcloth in his hand. It’s obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself, his hair a mess, beard scruffy and grown in may more than he normally let it. 

“Peter.” He says, his voice weak and gravely. He reaches out, and as soon as his fingers brush against Peter's arm, the man startles awake, sitting up straight.

“What? S’everything ok?” Peter slurs, still half asleep, but he stops when he realizes that Lucian’s eyes are open, that he’s really looking at him with recognition in his eyes. 

“Lucian?” Peter says, scooting closer to the werewolf. “Are you… are you really awake?”

“Yes,” He says, “I think so.” 

Peter flings himself at Lucian, clinging to him, tears already welling up in his eyes. “I was so fucking worried.”

Lucian gasps, and Peter lets go instantly.

“Shit, i’m sorry.” Peter says quickly, wiping his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine…” Lucian says, watching Peter like he was the most fascinating thing. “I’m ok.”

“You weren’t though.” Peter says, still trying to get a hold on his emotions, peels back the bandage on Lucian’s shoulder, just about sobs when he finds smooth skin, free of injury. “I really didn’t think you were going to make it for a second there.”

“I promise i’m ok now.” Lucian says, reaching up and cupping Peter’s cheek, brushing away a tear as it falls.

“Are you really?” Peter asks, unbelieving, not after the week he’s just had. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ll admit, I have been better.” Lucian admits, testing the full scope of his soreness by stretching his limbs out. “I’m sore, mostly, I feel very weak. I feel as if i’ve been out for a while now.”

“Maybe a week?” Peter says. “Kind of lost track of time though.”

“What happened?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“Not really.” Lucian says, rolling over onto his back. 

“Any of it?” 

“Not much, maybe bits and pieces.”

Peter sighs, he supposes that makes sense, given how high Lucian’s fever had been. He lays down and slips under the covers, stretching out next to Lucian.

“You called me, middle of the night, asking for help.” Peter starts, settling his head on the pillow, facing Lucian. “Someone attacked you, shot you with wolfsbane rounds.”

“I remember that.” Lucian confirms.

“I… I wasn’t sure what to do, I didn’t know how to fix it.” Peter says, getting emotional again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, pooling in his ear. “I got them out of you, but you, you weren’t getting better.”

Lucian shushes him, gathering Peter close to him, the man happily curling up with his head on Lucian’s chest, nuzzling his cheek.

“I thought you were going to burn away from the fever.”

“I’m getting better,” Lucian places a kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “It’s alright now.”

Peter just nods, sniffling and wrapping his arms around Lucian and holding tight. 

“Do you need anything?” Peter asks after a while, he had been unconscious for a week, so he might want water or food, anything.

“Just you.”


End file.
